Daphne, near one of those booths where the caterers prepare hot meals, a
man strode up to where some slaves were seated around a fire. He burned
a piece of parchment. All nine slaves agree that he was about Maternus'
height and build; that he strode like a man who had been hurt; that he
had mud and grass stains on his knees, and covered his face with a toga.
They also swear he said he was Maternus, and that he was gone before
they could recover their wits. They say his voice was sepulchral. One
of the slaves, who can read, declares that the words on the parchment he
burned were "Maternus Latro," and that it was the identical parchment he
had seen hanging from Maternus' neck on the cross. They tortured that
slave at once, of course, to get the truth out of him, and on the rack
he contradicted himself at least a dozen times, so they whipped him and
let him go, because his owner said he was a valuable cook; but the fact
remains that the story hasn't been disproved.

"And there is absolutely no doubt whatever about this: The caravan from
Asia came in just a little after dawn, having traveled the last stage by
night, as usual, in order to arrive early and get the formalities over
with. They came past the place of execution before sunrise. They had
heard the news of the execution from the north-bound caravan that passed
them in the mountains. They had all been afraid of Maternus because he
had robbed so many wayfarers, so naturally they were interested to see
his dead body. It was gone!"

"What of it? Probably the women took it down for burial. Robbers always
have a troupe of women. Maternus never had to steal one, so they say.
They flocked to him like Bacchanalians."

"No matter. Now listen to this: between the time when they learned of
Maternus' execution and their passing the place of execution that is to